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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371599">without change</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonseul/pseuds/archive'>archive (moonseul)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming of Age, Domestic, Future Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Realistic, Slow Burn, a lil supernatural if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:27:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonseul/pseuds/archive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>The moment is brief — his eyes dart away, like he’s willing his brain to put the words together. “My name is Jaehyun. Listen, you know how they say you never get second chances?”</p>
  <p>Jaehyun’s eyes meet his with conviction. “Well, they’re wrong.”</p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Jungwoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>without change</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the premise of this story is based on a work by saracupcaked, titled <a href="https://sincejuly.livejournal.com/10135.html">how to be his</a> (infinite, L/sungyeol). this story has haunted me for close to ten years, and i could only hope to write something good enough to pay tribute to it :-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jung Yoon-oh’s standing at the stop light, watching the amber light blink back erratically. He’s about a couple blocks past his high school about now, and the streets are eerily quiet for a late weekday afternoon. The sun’s just dipped behind a block of buildings and a draft sweeps past then, sizzling like a hot iron meeting ice. He wonders if he can cross the street.</p><p>When he decides to make a quick run for it (jaywalking is illegal, after all), he hears the footsteps of someone coming up behind him. Momentarily, he panics, wondering if it’s the police, but a look behind quickly assuages his worst fears. It’s just a normal man in normal clothes. Despite the fact that he’s wearing a face mask, Yoon-oh can tell from his immaculately styled hair that he’s an attractive man. He must be with those ladies from before.</p><p>“Um. Sir, I already gave you guys my mom’s phone number,” he thinks to say, wringing his hands on his backpack straps. “But I don’t really want to become a celebrity.”</p><p>The man half-jogs towards him, coming closer. It’s already been a strange day, one that started with a group of ladies ambushing him as soon as he stepped out of his school gates with an offer to be casted in an unnamed entertainment company, but it gets stranger as soon as the man loops a finger behind his ear to unhook his face mask.</p><p>He’s got a gentle look in his eyes, a strong jawline, skin as smooth as porcelain. </p><p>“Who are you?” Yoon-oh asks, taking a step back. He blinks again to make sure he isn’t dreaming.</p><p>“Yoon-oh,” the man says, his voice strikingly clear. The moment is brief — his eyes dart away, like he’s willing his brain to put the words together. “My name is Jaehyun. Listen, you know how they say you never get second chances?”</p><p>Jaehyun’s eyes meet his with conviction. “Well, they’re wrong.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They walk along the same path back home. It doesn’t take much to convince Yoon-oh that he’s talking to himself, almost fifteen years in the future. Jaehyun knows the way home, turning the same corners before Yoon-oh’s body even thinks to. Jaehyun does look similar to him, except more polished, princely even. He makes the occasional side glance to eye the stylish outfit, the acne-free face, and wonders how he could possibly get there.</p><p>“ You need to go to the audition,” Jaehyun says.</p><p>Yoon-oh stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I know, you’ve said it twice. But I don’t really think it’s going to end well if I can’t sing. Or dance… but maybe I can rap?”</p><p>Jaehyun sighs. “Don’t rap.”</p><p>“But you should go anyway,” Jaehyun continues. He tells him to listen carefully, because second chances rarely come by, and he doesn’t know about a third. He’s going to get accepted, even if his audition is bad, because they like his face, and talent can be taught (“That doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence, Jaehyun-ssi”). He’s going to debut in a boy band with many members, more than he can count with ten fingers, and it’s going to be confusing, but it’ll all work out.</p><p>“The most important thing,” Jaehyun saves for last. They’ve almost made it home now — he can see his apartment complex in the distance. “You’re going to meet this boy. You’re going to fall in love.”</p><p>“Fall in love?” Yoon-oh laughs nervously. Jaehyun says it with such gravity it doesn’t sound close to being a joke. “I… I’m fifteen.”</p><p>“For the both of us. Be true to your heart. And don’t let what’s important to you slip away.”</p><p>Yoon-oh furrows his brows. There’s confusion written all over his face, and Jaehyun can see it. “What’s his name?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, but that’s all I can say,” Jaehyun sighs again, threading his fingers through his hair. The shape of it barely budges; it almost convinces Yoon-oh that this, <em> all of this </em>, isn’t real. Jaehyun stops in his tracks. He reaches out to hold him by the shoulder. “Hey, look. I can’t go on any further. But go to the audition. Remember what I said.”</p><p>Yoon-oh watches Jaehyun stumble back, giving a small wave, before turning away and retreating into the distance. The silhouette of his body, grey and earthen in the golden light, slowly fades away into the quiet.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t take Jaehyun’s words to make him want to go to the audition, but he goes anyway, because his mother forces him to.</p><p>He shows up in his favorite t-shirt and raps and dances to EXO’s MAMA, because it’s the first video that shows up on Youtube. It takes multiple tutorials to learn the chorus, and the rap comes out sounding a little small and soft, but Jaehyun is right — they do take in him, even if he thinks the audition went horribly. </p><p>Pretty soon, he stops attending extracurricular activities at school. Training at SM Entertainment is his new extracurricular now. They put him through vocal lessons (<em> Rap is not going to be your thing </em>, his vocal teacher says on the first day), dance lessons, and do monthly evaluations to track his improvement. </p><p>In 2014, they put him into a pre-debut team, with members greater than what he can count with two hands, and he thinks, maybe this is it. Sometimes he thinks about what Jaehyun had said, about him meeting a boy. There are literally like ten of them though — some younger, some older — and he gets along with them just fine. If love works the way he thinks it’s supposed to, he’s supposed to feel something when it happens, <em> right </em>?</p><p>There are practices after practices, for a pre-debut video or for an upcoming SM Rookies performance overseas, so much so that thoughts of Jaehyun and what he’s said get pushed to the back of his mind. If what he’s said was true, he thinks, then shouldn’t he have met this boy by now? It takes too much effort to hyper analyze every touch, every interaction with everyone he’s met, so Yoon-oh eventually forgets about it. There are more pressing issues to focus on, anyway.</p><p>Their debut is set for a date in April, but there’s only going to be five of them: Taeyong, Doyoung, Ten, Mark, and him. The other SM Rookies don’t really talk about it, but Jaehyun knows it’s not going to be the end, looking down at his palms.</p><p>The dressing room is in a flurry, with the stylists rushing him into his next outfit change, and the make-up artists are hovering close by to fix his make-up, once he’s slipped on a different shirt. One of the production assistants comes up to him in the middle of it with a camera, asking him to introduce himself to an imaginary audience.</p><p>“Hello everybody,” he says, coming to a realization of the time and the place. “My name is Jaehyun.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>To his relief, he makes his debut again with NCT 127, this time including the other trainees like Haechan and Taeil. In an internal meeting, several managers line up the plan for NCT (<em> Neo Culture Technology </em>, Donghyuk mocks playfully in the middle of the night). The concept is confusing, but it’ll work out. At least, that’s what Jaehyun likes to believe.</p><p>Two years go by quickly, and the rest of the trainees he’d met in his time as a trainee eventually catch up, joining 127 or other sub-units as the concept fleshes itself out. Yoon-oh keeps thinking about the future, chasing after an unspoken goal. He keeps running, keeps dancing. His notes are improving, says his vocal coach. </p><p>He’s charting out his own path, one carved out his own decisions. His own choices. He determines his future.</p><p>He doesn’t even register that he’s out of breath until the managers come into the practice room one day, two trainees trailing behind them. </p><p>“My name is Lucas!” The first one shouts in broken Korean, grinning brightly.</p><p>The other trainee steps forward then, and Yoon-oh can hear his heart beating loudly in his ears, the sound of an echo in a large chamber. Small and contained, then bursting free.</p><p>“Hi. My name is Jungwoo.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jungwoo stays close to Yoon-oh, by virtue of their ages. He’s got a boyish smile, soft and brilliant when no one’s looking. There’s Jungwoo in front of the senior staff, all ninety-degree bows and quiet, talking only when spoken to. Then there’s Jungwoo, slurping carelessly Japanese ramen and shivering in the movie theater when they go downtown to watch The Priest — entirely his idea, even though he’s got his eyes closed half the time. In Ukraine, Jungwoo races Lucas on the ice and slips, and Jaehyun can hear him laughing from the make-up tent.</p><p>He watches Doyoung dust the snow from Jungwoo’s hair and pants, and he thinks that, maybe, observing from afar is the best. </p><p>The laughter that Jungwoo shares with him, he shares with everyone else. He likes to think of Jungwoo as a little brother, mouth habitually in a pout and wholly unaware.</p><p>Yoon-oh doesn’t let himself think beyond that, but sometimes he can’t help himself, not when Jungwoo bumps his knees against his on the flight home, or when Jungwoo turns to him with puffy eyes, as soon as he’s stepped off his debut stage.</p><p>There’s a loneliness in his eyes, fleeting, as if worried he’s going to be left behind. Yoon-oh pulls him in for a hug, mumbling into his hair, <em> You did well </em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It takes a few months, but eventually their friendship settles into an easy, comfortable one. He’s managed to repress the fluttering of his teenage heart (he’s turned 22, after all). Jungwoo opens up slowly to the world — his boyish smile, soft and brilliant, especially when people are looking. He’s eager to please, at times sensitive, and the exhaustion from the world tour gets to him first.</p><p>Jaehyun messages him occasionally when Jungwoo goes on hiatus. It’s been, what, three months, since he’s last heard his voice, but he can imagine what Jungwoo must sound like when he’s making Obok pose for a picture.</p><p>They draw lots for new roommates when they move into their new dorm, and he stares at the slip of paper in his hand, wondering if someone gave him Jungwoo’s name on purpose. When Jungwoo returns in the early days of January, smelling of train station bulgogi and fresh snow, he slots back into Yoon-oh’s life seamlessly like a puzzle piece.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You ever have the fear that this is going to be over someday?” Yooh-oh asks quietly to no one in particular, but at 3 a.m in his bedroom, Jungwoo is his only audience. He can’t tell if Jungwoo is awake, not when he’s buried under three comforters, only until he registers a soft <em> hyung </em> and silent agreement.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>On a whim, he decides to visit the same saju cafe Johnny and Doyoung had visited in February. It’s a rest day for the team, and the members have taken it upon themselves to spend it on individual “me time.” Taeyong’s spending it holed up in his room with his Switch, Johnny and Mark’s occupied the whole living room for a day of YouTube workouts, and Jungwoo’s decided to nap for the entirety of the day. Seeing as how he can’t be in his bedroom, or in the living room, Yoon-oh stepped out for an iced frappuccino.</p><p>The entrance to the saju cafe is tucked in between two convenience stores in Itaewon, an unassuming and narrow stairwell that opens up into a large waiting room decorated with vintage leather loveseats and macrame planters, strung precariously from the ceiling.</p><p>He’s watched Johnny’s vlog, so he kind of knows what to expect, but he’s taken by surprise when the fortune teller eyes him as he walks in, commenting on his <em> aura </em>. He slides into the chair gingerly, wondering if he’s done something wrong already before opening his mouth. </p><p>“You’re hardworking and resilient,” the fortune teller begins, reading from a book while scribbling out calculations on the back of his receipt. “You are unselfish, usually willing to make short-term personal sacrifices for the collective. At times, this can put you in difficult situations.”</p><p>“At times, you fight hard against the things you want the most,” she ends, punctuating with a sharp thump of her ballpoint pen on paper.</p><p>Yoon-oh nods seriously, drinking it all in. He’s never been one for superstition, but who’s to say they’re not real — not when he’s seen himself, years into the future. He’s never seen Jaehyun again, not since that first encounter almost eight years ago. It becomes difficult even, to remember the details, to draw the line between dream and reality.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He leaves Itaewon in a daze, climbing onto the bus to take him back to the dorm. The frappuccino has long melted, leaving his palms, as well as the fabric of his pants, wet with condensation.</p><p><em> You fight hard against the things you want the most </em>.</p><p>He thinks about what that could possibly mean.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Ya, Jungwoo, I know you’re not asleep,” Yoon-oh leans over Jungwoo’s bed with his arms crossed. Jungwoo’s tipped his head back in bed, pretending to let his arms go slack. Yoon-oh can tell he’s not asleep because Jungwoo’s phone screen is still turned on.</p><p>The rain patters aggressively on the window pane, typical for an early May evening.</p><p>Jungwoo squints an eye open to check if Yoon-oh’s still hovering over him and squeezes it shut when he realizes he’s still there.</p><p>“You wanna explain this?” Yoon-oh asks with mirth, reading from his phone: <em> I share the same bed with Jaehyun-hyung, you’re jealous right? Kekeke </em></p><p>Jungwoo has the audacity to scoff, saying, “My voice does <em> not </em>sound like that.”</p><p>Jungwoo’s smile slides into something mean, and before Joon-oh knows it, he’s being pulled him down onto the bed. Yoon-oh’s feet get caught in the other’s sheets as they tussle, his hands skimming past the bare skin under Jungwoo’s shirt. He pulls away instantly, as if burnt, and this hesitation gives Jungwoo enough leeway to sink the entirety of his body weight on him.</p><p>“I’ll give you some time to reconsider,” Jungwoo grins smugly, too self-satisfied. “Can’t say we haven’t shared a bed anymore now, can you, <em> hyung? </em>”</p><p>Jungwoo is staring down at him, his jet black hair shrouding his features in shadow, the edges of his face illuminated by the sunset glow. Yoon-oh can trace the lines, where it begins, from his cupid’s bow, to where it disappears under the collar of his shirt. </p><p>The realization of his <em> want </em> hits him like a truck.</p><p>And if he wanted to, he could press him close. He could sink his grip deeper into Jungwoo’s skin. But his heart clenches painfully in his chest, because Jungwoo is his roommate, his bandmate, his <em> friend </em>. </p><p>Once upon a time, a stranger had come up to him to tell him that he’d fall in love with a boy. He never said anything about being loved back.</p><p>The sun shifts across the sky, setting Jungwoo afresh in a new light. As soon as the moment comes, it’s over, and Jungwoo’s pushing himself off the bed to head towards the kitchen for dinner. </p><p>Yoon-oh lies in Jungwoo’s bed for a little longer, wordlessly, thinking about the weight of Jungwoo’s gaze and expectation. This is where, Yoon-oh realizes, he’s made his first mistake.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The second mistake happens the night before their repackage comeback, right before he goes to bed. </p><p>“You’ve been awfully quiet today, hyung,” Jungwoo mumbles, sitting cross-legged on his side of the room. It’s not a question, just an acknowledgement, a way to break the silence that’s been draped across the dorm since this morning.</p><p>Yoon-oh’s long thrown his phone to the far side of the room, not wanting to look at anything right now.</p><p>He hears the rustling of sheets, and the pressure of Jungwoo’s palm on his shoulder, gently pushing him aside to make enough room for two.</p><p>They lie shoulder to shoulder for a while, counting the white bars of light streaked across the ceiling, coming in from between the blinds. </p><p>“It’ll be better tomorrow,” Jungwoo offers, squeezing his hand briefly. “I promise.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Yoon-oh wakes up to Jungwoo’s harmless snoring, and he turns to find out that he’d fallen asleep in that exact position from the previous night. As cute as Jungwoo is, he’s a terribly ugly sleeper, his mouth hanging open and drool crusted on the edges of his lips. His hand is still loosely draped over Yoon-oh’s own, and it would be so easy for him to take this to mean something more.</p><p>Maybe, if the timing were right.</p><p><em> When we get our first win </em> , he reasons to himself. <em> Maybe I’ll tell him then </em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He’s learnt to not expect number one wins to come easy, so when they do take first place on Music Bank, the entire group is in tears. </p><p>His eyes dart across the encore stage to where Jungwoo is, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and smiling through it. His own cheeks are burning from how hard he’s smiling. </p><p>“Ah, hyung, you’re crying,” Jungwoo smiles, reaching out to pluck stray confetti from Yoon-oh’s face. “You look so uncool right now.”</p><p>Yoon-oh stills, his breath catching in his lungs as he registers the way Jungwoo looks at him, eyes curved into crescents. He wishes he had been braver then, because soon after they’re quickly ferried to their next schedule, and the next one after that, with no time to breathe.</p><p>This was his third mistake.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>These mistakes start building, month to month, year to year. In the autumn, Jungwoo lands a solo CF deal for Samdasoo bottled water, and he makes it a point to turn every sip of water into drinking practice. In the winter, he’s the first out of the lot to be casted in a supporting role of a drama. </p><p>Yoon-oh is happy for him, really. Especially because he sees how much these mean to Jungwoo, who’d carry his script as he’d pace the length of the room, memorizing the ten lines he’d have per episode.</p><p>They start running in tangents: Yoon-oh would spend his days practicing for an upcoming NCT U comeback, while Jungwoo would only return home in the wee hours of the morning, when Yoon-oh’s already gone to bed. Life begins to evolve into a series of near misses.</p><p>In another two years, Jungwoo, the last member to join NCT 127, becomes the first to graduate. He doesn’t even hear it from Jungwoo himself, who’s travelled to Busan to participate in the filming of an upcoming movie. The news cascades down from upper management to their managers, then to them. </p><p>He turns over in his bed, his brain still alert and far from sleep. It’s quite ironic that the person who’d feared being left behind would be the first to go.</p><p><em> You won’t miss me too much </em> , Jungwoo had joked while packing his things. <em> At least now you can light those scented candles of yours </em>!</p><p>Yoon-oh rolls off his bed to unearth the scented candles, from when he’d bought them years ago. The smell of sandalwood is foreign. He lights it with a box of matches and watches the flame grow, tall and singular.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s the first day of spring a year later when he sees Jungwoo again on the set of a drama, where they’d been cast together. A heist thriller, of all things.</p><p>“It’s that Versace suit you wore once, that must be it,” Jungwoo jokes at the food truck, in between the table-read. “The one with the-” he makes an arrow with his hands pointing to the ground, “The big V.”</p><p>Yoon-oh looks at him blankly.</p><p>“Looking absolutely <em> criminal </em> . No wonder you got this role. I’m just here for the comedic effect,” Jungwoo laughs, turning away briefly to receive his food from the employee. The coffee cup has a picture of the both of them on the sleeve, with the words <em> NCT FOREVER </em>.</p><p>“How’s the team?” Jungwoo asks on the walk back to set. His face is tucked into his scarf, emerging once every so often to sip on his latte. He still has the best hair, Yoon-oh reminisces, even when it looked like a mushroom.</p><p>“A few of them are enlisting this year,” Yoon-oh pauses, biting his lip. “It wasn’t the same after you left, you know that right?”</p><p>Jungwoo purses his lips.</p><p>He hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty, but a part of him wishes so, craving to make him experience the same loss.</p><p>“Ah, but. You know,” Jungwoo smiles, pointing to his cup. “NCT forever, right?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He finds out that Jungwoo has a girlfriend by the end of the first week of shooting, right after they’ve closed the opening bar brawl scene. Jungwoo’s hair is a mess, and the fake blood and gash on his upper lip look realistic. </p><p>“She’s gonna freak,” he chuckles, tapping loudly on his phone to take a picture.</p><p>Yoon-oh does a poor job of feigning nonchalance. He excuses himself to the bathroom and spends an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror looking at himself. His eyes are sunken in from where they gave him a fake bruise, skin looking pale under the sterile white light.</p><p>
  <em> You fight so hard against the things you want the most. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Throwing caution to the wind, Yoon-oh pulls Jungwoo aside one evening at a shoot by Banpo Bridge. A long row of street lights line the length of the bridge, shrouding the strait in a hazy glow. They get some time to themselves while the rest of the crew is in clean-up, so Yoon-oh takes the chance to ask Jungwoo along for a short stroll. They stop by the railing, taste of the river and sound of the waves sloshing underneath bringing a sense of calm to the tumultuous stirring of Yoon-oh’s stomach.</p><p>“Ah… Hangang,” Jungwoo sighs with nostalgia. Yoon-oh has a scene in his head, though it might not be the same way Jungwoo sees it. </p><p>It wasn’t on Banpo Bridge, but a shorter, less impressive one near their dorm. Dead in the middle of winter, many winters before, the two of them had gone for a walk in the snow, just to see if the surface of the lake would freeze over. Jungwoo would lean against the railing, peering closely at the driftwood, reaching out to cup the city lights in the distance, bright as a thousand suns. Yoon-oh would have his hands around the other’s waist, just because falling would be a terrible way to go. </p><p>And he'd always remember this: what it was like to hold a life briefly in his hands.</p><p>“Jungwoo,” Yoon-oh says, reaching out a hand to touch Jungwoo by the shoulder. He doesn’t know what to say. </p><p>“I know you have a girlfriend, but I need to tell you something.”</p><p>Jungwoo looks over his shoulder back at him. “What?”</p><p>“I’ve liked you for a long time. We should… we should be together,” Yoon-oh says stiffly.</p><p>“...” Jungwoo mumbles, but the sound comes out muffled, as if coming from far away. He’s looking for the driftwood at the foot of the bridge.</p><p>Yoon-oh presses, “What?”</p><p>“How long?”</p><p>Yoon-oh shifts the weight on his feet, fingers clenching in his coat pockets.</p><p>“Ever since I met you,” he replies, waiting for Jungwoo’s response. “And we could, if you wanted to—”</p><p>“Jaehyun-hyung,” Jungwoo says, looking back at him now, his voice wavering in the wind. “You can’t do this to me.” </p><p>“You can’t come in here and… and expect me to drop everything,” Jungwoo rasps, a mix of anger. Disappointment. Expectation. “Years ago I would have… maybe. But I’m happy now, and things are going well for us both, aren’t they?”</p><p>Yoon-oh can only keep mum like a fool, hearing the words speed by him. He feels heavy, so heavy that he might fall.</p><p>Jungwoo shoves his hands in his coat, gesturing for him to head back to set. “It’s late, and we’ve still got filming tomorrow.”</p><p>Yoon-oh does what he knows best, grinning through the pain. Jungwoo greats him on set the next day as if nothing’s happened, and he runs through all his lines like a machine. It’s hard for him to even let it all sink in until the week is over, when he’s back in his apartment alone, with the weight of all that’s transpired. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“You’re back,” the fortune teller says as soon as he steps into the same saju cafe from five years ago.</p><p>It’s been a few weeks since production has wrapped, and Yoon-oh’s reclaimed some headspace to properly mope.</p><p>He quirks an eyebrow. “You remember me?”</p><p>She laughs into her hand, because the answer is obvious. “You’ve been touched by time,” she says self-assuredly, as if it isn’t something totally absurd, and here Yoon-oh thought he was the only crazy one.</p><p>He holds back against pouring out all of his problems — she is a fortune teller, not a therapist, after all — but asks simply this: What about a third chance?</p><p>The lady walks over to a row of binders, pulling out a dusty folder from the May of 2020. “Can you believe you were last here, the same day of May in 2020?”</p><p>“Funny coincidence,” she remarks curiously.</p><p>And because Yoon-oh is an idiot, but an idiot who’s learned from his mistakes, he runs out onto the street, looking for the all too familiar bus stop, because if third chances don’t exist, then he’s creating it on his own.</p><p>It doesn’t take long. It’s not hard to spot Jaehyun standing by the bus shelter advertisement, not with that atrocious looking bucket hat.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jaehyun looks shaken, with his hand tight around his frappuccino and eyes wide like he’s looking at a ghost.</p><p>“Well I fucked up,” Yoon-oh says by means of an introduction, palming the back of his neck nervously. He’s pushed Jaehyun into a 7-Eleven, right by the dairy section to get some privacy.</p><p>“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Jaehyun remarks, casting his eyes over the other. Yoon-oh looks worn, face without any make-up today. He can tell something’s up, eyeing him with concern.</p><p>“You’ve met him already, haven’t you?” Yoon-oh asks. Jaehyun nods. </p><p>His mind is churning with all the words he has to say., having lived through all his mistakes. This Jaehyun doesn’t know it yet — the burden of lost time.</p><p>Because he fights hard against the things he wants the most.</p><p>“Just let yourself have this one thing. Please,” he doesn’t mean to sound defeated, but his voice cracks on the last syllable.</p><p>“What? What are you talking about?” Jaehyun asks cautiously.</p><p>Yoon-oh realizes it’s himself he’s talking to. His twenty-three year-old, ambitious, but <em> oblivious </em> self, who’s going to need a whole fucking manual.</p><p>“He likes you back,” Yoon-oh laughs, almost bitterly. “You need to tell him that, before it’s too late.”</p><p>Jaehyun’s ears begin to flush pink in embarrassment. “When?”</p><p>It doesn’t matter when, Yoon-oh wants to say. But he knows himself, so, “Before you win first place for Punch. That’s your last chance.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The 29th comes and goes uneventfully. Yoon-oh would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t watching the days go by on the calendar, wondering if something were to happen. He’s fallen into a slump between jobs, and he really should be happy about the break. It’s not always that he gets to sleep till the afternoon.</p><p>He eventually does roll out of bed close to noon, when the heat seeps in through the windows and drenches the back of his shirt wet in sweat. The feeling of existential dread is too real right now. He can feel pricklings of a fever, climbing up the back of his neck, which could be due to the change in weather. His body has a tendency to react that way, ever since he was a kid.</p><p>He pads over to the kitchen to heat up the leftover kimchi jjigae, then sweats it out in front of the TV like a respectable human being. </p><p>Somewhere along the line, between the third and fourth TV show, he falls into a deep, blank sleep, and he almost wouldn’t have known it if it weren’t for a stubbornly persistent hand, slapping his face awake.</p><p>“Oh thank god,” the voice huffs, petulant but all too familiar. “I thought you were dead.”</p><p>Yoon-oh blinks himself awake, rubbing his eyes to make sure he’s not crazy, because it’s Jungwoo — black-haired, face flushed a lovely shade of pink. </p><p>“Jungwoo,” he stutters, edging himself up the couch to sit upright. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Oh dear,” Jungwoo presses the back of his hand to Yoon-oh’s neck, feeling for warmth. Then to his forehead. All Yoon-oh feels is a prickling sensation, his skin burning like a brand.</p><p>“What do you mean <em> what are you doing here </em>, I live here, dumbass,” Jungwoo retorts smugly.</p><p>Jungwoo trots over to the kitchen to store the groceries in the fridge. Peaches, for Yoon-oh, frozen kimchi mandu, for dinner, and ice cream, for when they watch the premiere of their new drama on TV. Yoon-oh watches him from the couch with his mouth hanging open, confused.</p><p>Obok is bouncing around his legs, as if it hasn’t seen him in days.</p><p>Yoon-oh shuffles over to the kitchen cautiously, worried that if he went too fast he’d wake up from a dream. He reaches out to hold Jungwoo by the waist, twists him ever so slightly, so that he can lean in for a kiss. Jungwoo melts into it, mouth wet and pliant, tongue teasing with a casual lick on his bottom lip.</p><p>The memories overtake him all at once: they did win first place, but Jaehyun didn’t do anything after, because he’s an idiot. He did, however, take the plunge once they returned back to their bedroom. Jungwoo never leaves NCT, though he takes a break from singing to pursue his acting career. They both pick an apartment that overlooks the Hangang river for the view of the city lights, when the house lamps are dimmed low and the city from afar shines like stars.</p><p>His finger hovers over the seam of Jungwoo’s lip, his palm sliding to cup his delicate cheek and trailing up to fist in his hair. It feels so <em> good </em> — to know that Jaehyun did, that <em> he </em>could do it. </p><p>“Don’t be shy, Yoon-oh hyung,” Jungwoo smirks, confidence showing in the prominence of his dimples.</p><p>Yoon-oh leans in to bury his face in the crook of his neck, and to hide the smile that would give him away. He laughs, throaty and full, his heart thrumming in his chest fiercely and fearlessly, living into today, tomorrow, and all the days he’ll have with Jungwoo.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i sure hope they do win #1 on music bank this friday, or this story would have aged poorly lmao</p><p>somewhere along the line, jungwoo comments on how uncool jaehyun looks because he's so sweaty. then he scrubs jaehyun's washboard abs and says "skrrt skrrt."</p><p>i'm on <a href="https://twitter.com/refois">twitter</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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